Of Grades and Greasers: Second Attempt
by Madame Apathy
Summary: A second draft of the original story. Concrit welcome. Pairings include: Beatrice/Johnny and Vance/Cornelius.
1. Introduction

Hello everyone,

Basically, this is a rework of the story I wrote at the age of fourteen and never finished. I hope this version is a bit more intricate, interesting and enjoyable for all of you. Any constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated.

Thank you,

Madame Apathy

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Disclaimer: I do not own Bully or anything recognisable from Rockstar canon. This story is non-profit.

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Chapter 1

"Fighting, bullying, breaking and entering," Dr Crabblesnitch ranted, his voice rising with each step he took pacing up and down behind his desk. How was it that so many students could be involved in all this? "This is not the sort of behaviour we tolerate at Bullworth Academy! You should all know that by now, surely."

In that huge office the students looked almost as though they were at church, each one with their head down. They were even sat as though they were at church: the more prestigious students to the left, leather-clad biker boys with the more intelligent students on the right. He preferred not to call them "nerds", "greasers" or "preps" – why encourage clique culture in the school? Yet while this division was not unusual amongst the students, what did surprise Crabblesnitch was the two students at the back of the room. A notorious trouble maker like young Mr Vincent struck the doctor as remarkably out of place next to such an academically ambitious young lady such as Miss Trudeau.

However, for now the conspicuous couple could wait. This array of bloodied ad bruised children was a much more pressing matter than student romances.

"Disgraceful," the principal announced. "Simply disgraceful. In fact I have half a mind to expel the lot of you –"

A collective gasp practically created a vacuum in the room.

"– and frankly the only thing preventing me is that that would entail removing sixty percent of the student body. Now, evidently there's been things amiss on both sides of this situation," he continued, glancing at Mrs Spencer, a fine-looking woman in an expensive Aquaberry sweater, "so I want a full explanation of everything that's happened to cause this lunacy in my academy."

"But my father bought the library!" Bif Taylor protested.

"Exactly!" agreed Tad Spencer. "Look at my arm! Surely we can agree that these poor people are responsible!"

"Tad Robert Joseph Bartholomew Spencer!"

"But Mother!"

"Even your father would disagree with that logic!"

"No he wouldn't!"

"Well he ought to." Mrs Spencer threw an apologetic glance at Dr Crabblesnitch. "Doctor, I'm not going to press charges against these children, but I do want to be told everything that happened. Frankly, I think that's the least that any of us deserve."

"I agree completely, Madam," said Dr Crabblesnitch, casting his eye over the students. "Don't you, children?"

He was met with silence.

"Excellent. Now, someone explain to me what started this mess."


	2. Bucky I

Chapter 2

After a moment's silence a scrawny boy shuffled forward.

"You, Pasteur? You caused all of this?"

Bucky nodded at the carpet, fiddling with his watches. Widening his eyes, Crabblesnitch stretched his neck out a little to hear the boy. Brian Pasteur? He was responsible for all this chaos?

"How?" he asked, tilting his head as the boy stumbled over his words like an idiot.

"I, uh, well, you see – I –"

"Spit it _out_, boy."

Twisting his watches around so that the faces aligned, Bucky ducked his head at the man's tone.

"I, uh…" Eventually Officer Williams' son cut through the dithering to offer an explaination.

"Bucky don't like crowds,"

"He doesn't like crowds." one of the fat boys added.

"This ain't the damn time, Melvin!"

"Let's not start shouting again, children." Dr Crabblesnitch looked over to Mrs Spencer. "Everyone but Mr Pasteur wait outside, please. As long as Mrs Spencer and myself hear I suppose we can interview you individually."

A fire couldn't have got the children out of there faster, and within seconds the only sound was the three ticks of Bucky's watches.

"Well then, young man?"

Tick, tick, tick, the memory of the first incident shuffled to the front of Bucky's mind. Tick, the rain crashed against the pavement in the cold. Tick, the dim light glowed eerily from the street lamps that weren't broken.

"It was a Wednesday, because I was going to Dragon's Wing."

"The comic book store?"

"Wednesday is Goblins and Gremlins, Mrs Spencer," he explained to the blonde woman. "That was until eleven," he added, remembering how he ran like a hyperactive greyhound in an attempt to get back to school on time. Well, he'd tried at least - a few seconds of running had his puny legs aching. Oh well. He was late anyway now.

His senses had woken up once he began dawdling back to the school; constellations glittered in the copper sulphate sky, the cold wind wrapped itself around him like a barbed wire coat, and the smell of wet pavement danced in the air. He could barely hear a thing over the cars coughing their way along the road, almost begging someone to send them to the scrapheap. As the traffic began to die away, new sounds and sights became apparent; clothes tinged inky blue from the dark, slurred laughter sneaking towards the nerd, a drunken laugh...

"Are you all right?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"You're shaking."

Shaking his head, the boy took a deep breath and continued.

"Anyway, I was walking home from LARPing…" Catching the woman's expression he explained, "live action role playing, it's where you dress up as… Never mind. Anyway, three boys saw me on the way home and came over."

_"Bucky! How are you, my friend?"  
"Oh, um... fine, thank you, T-"  
"Good, good. You've done our essays, haven't you?" a bottle slipped from the boy's grip, giving Bucky a slip second to step back as the two other figures snorted, beer strangling the boys' chortling.  
"Yeah..."  
"Good," The other boy stretched his palm out expectantly. Cold drops of panic appeared on Bucky's forehead.  
"They're... err... in the dorms! Yeah... So I'll give you them in the morning," the nerd squeaked, edging away. He'd pulled all night essay writing off before, and Melvin would most likely help out if Bucky gave him a soda for his troubles._

_Annoyance flickered through the bloodshot brown eyes as Bucky's own eyes frantically darted around me like a ball in a pinball machine.  
"No matter... We'll walk back with you for them," Bucky's heart dropped into his stomach. He took a deep breath of cold air. The longer he kept quiet, the worse his punishment would be._

_"I haven't done it." What was meant as a casual statement betrayed the nerd's panic. Anger flashed across three faces.  
"What?" Bucky felt his legs tremor, knowing they needed to run soon.  
"I-I can get them done!" he squeaked, know enough about ethanol to realise that someone under the influence of it was easy to anger and hard to calm, knowledge which unfortunately proved to be accurate.  
"Really?" a deeper voice snarled. "And how do you intend to do that in a few hours? You said they'd be done,"  
"I know! And they will be, but please just give me till the morning,"  
"You agreed tonight. Pathetic!" The insult was punctuated with shoves and jabs. "Typical, isn't it?"  
"Completely," his accomplice muttered. "It's our own fault for depending on the wimp,"  
"Maybe so. What were we expecting from a boy whose best friend is his mad granma?"_

_Within moments, Bucky felt his blood turn to bile. They had no right to say that. Granny couldn't help it, and she wasn't mad anyway. How dare they. How _dare_ they. The rotten, no-good, inbred, inebriate -  
"At least my family actually _like_ me, you Neanderthal!"_

_No sooner than the words left his mouth did regret set it. If they'd been mad before, his words were a red flag to a bull. They'd kill him now, he was sure of it. In a futile move, Bucky turned and darted off- or tried to- as though the paving stones were hot coals, tripping over his own shoes and thudding to the floor, gravel digging into his cheek. A foot slammed into his ribs, sending searing pain to scream through Bucky's body. He squeezed his eyes shut._

_"Crap," The boys stepped back in horror at their handiwork. "He's alive, right?" No one spoke. One of the boys stepped forward and reached out towards the unmoving boy.  
"What are you doing?"  
"Checking his pulse," the boy jerked his hand away from Bucky's skin the second he touched it, staring at the warm liquid on his fingertips. Blood. "Oh God..."  
"What? Is he -" A man's voice cut through the air. _

_"Hey! What's going on over there?"  
"Shit. Run,"  
"Bu-"  
"They'll take care of him, just run!" There was no point arguing. The other two boys obeyed and vanished down the road after him, easily outrunning the unwitting witness. The man turned his head and sighed.  
"Damn kids." The tiny light crept along the pavement, catching sight of an outstreched arm laid on the floor. _

_"Kid, you ok?" No answer. The man stepped forward to get a better look. "Kid?" Bucky's injuries were more apparent in the bright light; lavender bruises bloomed on lily white skin, poppy red liquid dripping from his face. His face was frighteningly still, his eyes closed._

_"What in the name of…"_


End file.
